When I and the Universe Feel Most One
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OWN THIS PAINTING
(I wrote this as one of my weekly letters to my online community, The Lasting Supper, earlier this year. I hope it means something to you.)
Early this morning I arose.
The air was so cold outside that everything was silent. Including the radiant moon and its attending stars.
The only sound was the snow crunching under my boots.
We took our second son to the airport at 3:30 am. We took our first son to the airport yesterday at the same time.
Returning to our silent house, Lisa went back to bed.
We were remarking on one of the luxuries of where we live‚ where we can get up, take a person to the airport, and return and be back in bed all within an hour.
I decided to stay up. I took Sophie, our little Westie, outside, and we watched six deer standing staring at us, about ten feet away. They'd been awakened by our presence. They sometimes sleep under one of our hedges. We stared each other down for several minutes until they decided we were not a threat until they wandered off to find another bed.
So we stood in the moonlight‚ where I and the universe always feel most One.
Eventually, Sophie and I came back inside.
So, I stoked the fire with maple, put on some morning music, made a coffee, and suddenly felt the overwhelming joy of just being. Here I am, safe in a remote province buried in snow, standing in a warm house with a crackling fire, sipping dark roast out of a locally made porcelain mug, and meditative music filling the room. My lovely Lisa is sound asleep in our bed.
Without a thought, ‚ÄúSo beautiful!‚Äù
automatically came out of my mouth.
I surprised my ears with this simple proclamation.
But it's true! There was no need to invoke the supernatural. There was no need to sanctify the moment. There was no moralizing thought to turn this into something more than what it simply was.
For when everything lives in benediction, when everything lives in blessedness‚ (I can think of no better word)‚ there is no need to consecrate it. When everything is pure, there is no need to sanctify it. When everything is perfect, there is no need to legitimize it.
Reality needs to validation.
There is nothing wrong with the beauty of holy words, incense, bells, invocations, and choirs. They carry their own aroma of benediction. But if we fearfully use these under the burden of necessity to appease the gods and redeem our filthy souls, then there's nothing that can be done to evoke the primal joy that is organically and rightfully ours.
The air we breathe is not just infused with benediction. The air itself is
the benediction. Benediction is not perfume enhancing what is. Benediction itself is the Is.
The division has vanished, and we can live fully in the moment.
Without a second thought.
Peace, my friends,